Cocoa man extends a hand to me, and before I know what I'm doing, my body is reaching for him as well. Just the brush of his fingers is like a rush of dopamine through my system, easing all my fears. Like a drug.
“I see you do know who Chip is after all,” Lenore teases.
“That is a mug of hot chocolate,” I point out stupidly.
“I fear your wife is struggling to accept your abilities, Chip. You're going to have to teach her all about you. Be gentle, this is all very new to her.”
I stand, needing distance. “Wife? Why would you think I'm married? That's ridiculous. Look, I get what you're saying, andI'm sure this seems very rational to you, but I come from a place of box stores with shitty lighting and dingy bowling alleys. I don't... magic can't be real. Because if it was, then everything I knew would be...”
“Love, why don't we get a hot meal into you, some fresh air, and you'll feel much better. Just let your brain rest and absorb this new information. This is a lot for you to learn at once. That must be rough for you.”
I find myself nodding at Chip, my lower lip pouting slightly. “It is. It is very difficult. Thank you for acknowledging that. However, you are still just a mug of hot chocolate.”
He disappears in a flash, and a rush of tingles spreads throughout my entire body, and I get the distinct impression that I'm being possessed. That's... so quaint. Yeah, I'm just gonna take a little nap and everything will be better. The floor looks great here.
Chapter 3
Chip
Even unconscious, my wife is the most beautiful being I've ever beheld. From the first time she walked by Lenore’s spell shop, I knew down to every atom of my being the wonderful things we could be together.
She was who my soul called out to; the vanilla to my cream, the glaze to my ceramic, the steam to my hot chocolate.
It took a little convincing to get Lenore to put me in Devon's hands, but if they weren't the softest, most glorious hands anyone has ever felt caress them, then I’m a cup of joe. It's like they were made to hold me.
I thought that being turned into a cup of hot chocolate was a curse when I was younger. I used to envy almost everyone else that wasn’t an inanimate object, but I’ve come to love it. Ever since she nestled me in those glorious hands of hers, nailspainted a soft chocolate brown, for me I assume, I couldn't regret anything about my existence.
I come from a long line of shifters. What's unique about my family though, is we don't get to pick what we shift into. We spend our adolescence getting our education, traveling the world, and learning about all walks of life. And then, when we get into our mid-20’s, we are blessed with our forms. And in those forms we stay until we find our fated mate.
Luckily, we stop aging the moment we get stuck in our forms, so as not to scare off any potential matches. It would not do to be awoken from a 30-year sleep for instance, to find your mate in their mid-20s and wanting nothing to do with you. So, while technically I am old, I've been in stasis.
Now that I've taken my mate though, and we are officially bonded, we can age together. It will be beautiful.
I've met other food shifters before, although they are rare. We are given our forms by the high council. They're able to look into the future and discern which shape will benefit us the most. It's typically a mammal of some sort; wolves are quite popular. But there've been all manner of shifters in my life. I have a cousin who is a chair rail, for instance. A grandmother that was a flower bed.
In comparison, a magical mug of hot chocolate did not seem too wild to me. Might be strange to others in the supernatural community, but once they learn which line I hail from, they smile and wish me the best. Not that I can respond when I'm in mug form, but I'd like to think they know I accept their well wishes.
But this is all boring stuff. I hold an angel in my arms, who's so overwhelmed with affection for me, that she has swooned like adamsel of old. She was so overcome with emotion that it short circuited her system.
Now that we are married, and yes I filed the paperwork for the council already, I can transform my wife with me and transport us safely home. I don't mean the motel, either. I mean the cottage that's been sitting and waiting for me. The coziest of all cozies that will suit her just right.
Liquifying my wife is incredibly sexual, and as we meld it together, her milk chocolate to my dark, I'm glad that I've been enchanted to not produce young for some time. The way that my reproductive organs are working overtime right now to fill her up as we travel, would have her falling pregnant immediately otherwise.
Just that little bit of contact with her has solidified me more. When we land in my cottage, it deactivates all the protective spells on it, bringing it back to life. The dust disappears in an instant, the air freshens, and all the lights turn on to a soft, warm glow. The fireplace roars to life, and the gentle scent of peppermint dusts the air.
I lay my wife on my blue denim couch that I chose just for her, years ago, not knowing who I was buying for, and I drape the hand-knit fertility blanket that's been passed down my line like an heirloom over her lap.
It doesn't take her long to wake up after that.
Her beautiful brown eyes start to flutter open, her consciousness seeping into her like a nice, soft suggestion. Her hands dance around the soft denim fabric to ascertain where she is. Then my lovely sits up with her mouth wide open and draws breath as if to scream, until she gets sight of me sitting next to her on the couch.
I can feel more strength in my fingers, and I'm not having any trouble yet holding my form. “Good morning, Devon. Although, I'm not quite sure it's actually morning still. I think that's just something you say though, when somebody wakes up. Does it actually matter what time of day it is?”
“Where are we?”
“We are home, my love. Where we belong.”
She darts from the couch to look out the window, taking in the trees and the cobblestone pathway. “Where did you take me?”
